Errata is a web journal written by Robert Davis who has neither spent a night in a ghost town nor pulled a turnip from the earth. He doesn't even know if turnips grow in the ground. Perhaps on trees, like candy corn. Therefore, Errata is a non-commercial project.

Observation #1: It may be appropriate, when leaving a movie theater, to say "mysterious."

Observation #2: It may be appropriate, when leaving a movie theater, to say "mysterious" at the top of your lungs. Bring your eyebrows together before you say it. Effective!

Observation #3: Same for books. Even at libraries.

There is a prize for people who correctly guess the thing about Metropolis, Nevada.

Except where the text specifically states otherwise, Errata's vagaries are indicated vaguely and its authors are indistinct in the traditional way of the Internet, except where the authors lay claim to their work. In some cases Robert Davis lays claim to work that is not his own but has been abandoned like so many ghost towns. Except where held presently, fistfuls of dirt are suspended via dispersal, or dispersed via suspension (in the air), and thus their dissolution is their transcendence, or their transcendence is their dissolution. And yet our eyes tear, and our vision is impaired, demonstrating for the umpteenth time that one entity's gain is another's fit of sneezes. Except where indicated, storms shall outlive the clay upon which they rain, unless storms are improperly delimited by their clouds, which dissolve, rather than by their inevitable return. Thus the clay loses, unless the clay is said to own the storm, to use it to make itself heavy, to make itself cling to white garments, refuse dispersal, cake upon the facades of abandoned buildings, and sit like Man [sic] upon the earth where it is pelted by a storm that it owns. In which case the clay still loses, if you ask us.

Some of the above is legally binding and should be considered a mental contract between Errata and those upon whom it acts. The bit about the prize should be considered an overstatement insofar as prizes differ from dirt and prize dispersal differs from dirt dispersal. Please recall that ownership is a weight and, therefore, hope that you do not win the prize.

One day Errata or its representatives will call upon you for a favor. It is expected that you will hop-to without delay.

You may contact Robert Davis by email unless it's about the rock that was thrown in anger. The rock is more properly called a clod. Why do you continue to raise the topic?

22 March 2008

How I'm Different from Charlie Rose

An injured Charlie Rose.

One day last week, Charlie Rose appeared on his show looking like this. He explained:

First a note about my eye. I had a little accident. I tripped and I fell on the pavement, and look what happened. And we took four of five stitches, and I'm OK. So no more questions. And I can't do that silly joke about "you should have seen the other person."

TechCrunch provided a few more details:

I contacted the show’s producers to hear what happened. Earlier today, they said, Rose tripped in a pothole while walking on 59th Street in Manhattan. He was carrying a newly purchased MacBook Air and made a quick (but ultimately flawed) decision while falling: sacrifice the face, protect the computer. "In doing so, he pretty much hit the pavement face first, unfortunately," they said.

I've had an iPhone since — ok, yes — since the week they came out. I don't talk on the phone much, but a few years ago when I needed an email-capable phone for work and started carrying a Treo, I quickly became hooked on easy access to my mail and the Internet. The Treo was fine, but the iPhone has been a welcome upgrade.

Back in September or so, I stepped out of the subway as I did every morning, iPhone in hand, headphones in ears, and began moving quickly up the escalator to exit the station. Walk left, stand right.

Half way up the escalator, in a near jog, I tripped, but without thinking I put both hands out to catch myself, which meant I slammed my iPhone between my palm and the metal escalator. I got up, dusted myself off as I rode to the top, and noticed on my left hand the grill marks from the step where I'd landed, and on my right hand nothing but a perfectly unharmed iPhone, still there, still playing, ironically, an episode of Charlie Rose. (I listen to his show often but I watch it rarely.)

OK, OK, an iPhone is way cheaper than a MacBook Air and carries no irreplaceable data. I might have gone face first if I'd been carrying my laptop, too.

My advice to anyone thinking of getting an iPhone is always the same: don't get a case. I see people carrying their phones in all sorts of sleeves and wallets and beveled bumpers designed to protect this admittedly fragile-looking piece of techno glass. But I'm here to tell you they're not necessary and that the device is much more pleasant and compact without a shell. I've dropped mine more than once, and I've slammed it hard against an escalator to protect my, you know, face. And while the thin chrome-like band that runs around the screen has a couple of minor nicks, the rest, including the touch-sensitive glass, is as pristine as the day I bought it.

I'm sure you can damage it. I do try to take good care of mine. I don't stick it in my back pocket and sit on it. Well, not often. So don't blame me if something bad happens to yours. I offer no warranties, no guarantees, just the experience of carrying an iPhone around under pretty much constant use in an urban environment with no case and, surprisingly, no ill effects.

Now, headphones ... that's another story.

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